SS CH8

Ye Fusheng caught the limp Xie Li in his arms and flicked the boy’s forehead with a sharp knock. “You little brat, you really do love seeking death!”

Though Chu Xiwei’s eyes were tightly shut, he keenly sensed the presence of an additional person. Tilting his head slightly toward them, he asked, “And you two are…?”

The woman moved with swift qinggong, landing beside them and silently taking Xie Li into her arms. Ye Fusheng turned around; though the light was dim, the ambient glow allowed him to recognize her after squinting for a moment—it was the very woman he had fought earlier.

At that moment, her left hand—missing its pinky finger—gently traced over Xie Li’s face inch by inch, smoothing his hair down to his chin and carefully wiping away a fleck of dust on his earlobe. A rare clarity washed over her murky eyes, and a tearful mist filled her bloodshot sockets, trembling on the verge of falling before she forced it all back.

She finally opened her mouth, her voice raspy and harsh: “Is this… A-Li?”

Ye Fusheng nodded. She held Xie Li tightly for a long while before whispering, “He’s too thin… his bones dig right into me.”

Hearing her tone, Chu Xiwei’s thoughts turned quickly, though his expression remained unchanged. Suddenly, he felt an itch on his face and almost lashed out with a palm strike out of sheer instinct, only barely suppressing the reaction.

Ye Fusheng nonchalantly pried open his eyelids and waved a hand before his face. “It’s nothing serious. Apply some medicine when we get back, and you’ll be fine in seven or eight days.”

That long…? Chu Xiwei knit his brows, adopting a polite tone: “Are you skilled in medicine, sir?”

Ye Fusheng shook his head. “Just a habit of learning from long illness… Hm?”

Chu Xiwei suddenly raised a hand, accurately catching Ye Fusheng’s wrist and feeling his way up to the calluses on his palm and index knuckle.

Holding his hand, Chu Xiwei praised, “A fine blade hand.”

Ye Fusheng felt goosebumps break out across his skin. Just as Chu Xiwei was about to feel further, Ye Fusheng pulled his arm away.

Withdrawing his hand with a smile, Ye Fusheng said, “I’m Ye Fusheng, a guard at Duanshui Manor.”

He tucked his right hand unnaturally into his sleeve, hiding an old bite mark on his index finger. He let out a breath of relief, as if concealing a private sanctuary no one else was allowed to touch.

Ye Fusheng? A subtle smile touched the corner of Chu Xiwei’s lips. Since when did Duanshui Manor have someone like this—completely unknown in the Jianghu, yet possessing such formidable skill?

No matter what thoughts crossed his mind, Chu Xiwei kept his countenance unreadable: “I am Chu Xiwei. Thank you for your assistance.”

Ye Fusheng looked at the shattered puppet pieces scattered by his feet, smiling without a word.

This man named Chu carried an obscure background, and his methods were ruthless and decisive. He was neither a righteous hero nor a good Samaritan driven by virtue.

Why had he taken such a risk? And why had he saved Xie Li?

At that thought, the hand behind Ye Fusheng’s back twitched, his fingers casually stretching outward.

Behind him, the crouching woman trembled slightly.

“…I’ll lead you out,” the woman said expressionlessly as she stood up, keeping her firm grip on Xie Li. She turned and walked toward the hidden door through which she and Ye Fusheng had entered.

After taking a couple of steps, Ye Fusheng remembered the temporarily blinded man left behind. He turned back out of goodwill and asked, “Need a hand?”

Chu Xiwei lowered his hands, smiling with warm courtesy: “Many thanks.”

That single smile instantly softened his strikingly handsome features. His long brows lifted slightly, and his crimson lips curved up, making him look as if a haunting ghost had suddenly returned to life, blooming with vibrant beauty.

Such a stunning beauty… pity he’s a man.

Ye Fusheng shook his head, took hold of a corner of Chu Xiwei’s sleeve, and guided him forward.

The underground complex was interconnected with hidden passages linking various stone chambers, but aside from the mechanism room, there were no further lethal traps. Realizing this, Ye Fusheng felt an itch to scold the kid again—not only was the brat practically begging for a beating, but he was also cursed with terrible luck.

Beyond the mechanism room, the other chambers featured double walls. The secret sanctuary seemed split into two distinct halves; unless one knew the hidden paths intimately, they would only ever walk through one half, while the rest remained hidden behind secret doors.

The exposed areas held only simple items and rows of empty weapon racks, likely used by past manor lords during secluded cultivation. The hidden rooms, however, were fully furnished for daily living despite their compact size, though now buried in thick dust and long abandoned by whoever once resided there.

Ye Fusheng noted these details as they walked. The woman moved silently like a wooden puppet. Turning his head back casually, Ye Fusheng met Chu Xiwei’s dim, vacant eyes staring straight at him.

Even knowing the man couldn’t see, Ye Fusheng still felt uncomfortable. As if sensing his gaze, Chu Xiwei asked, “Why are you looking at me?”

It was a completely unblushing lie, delivered with absolute confidence.

Ye Fusheng blinked and replied shamelessly, “You’re a feast for the eyes. I want to sleep with you.”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Walking ahead, the woman stumbled, nearly dropping Xie Li onto the ground.

Ye Fusheng tugged on his sleeve, putting on a coy tone: “I happen to be a cut-sleeve, and yet you handed your sleeve right into my grip. If that isn’t an invitation, what is? I say, once we get out of here, why don’t the two of us…”

Chu Xiwei pulled his sleeve back, cutting him off cold: “I appreciate your favor, but I have no such intentions.”

Ye Fusheng casually finished his sentence: “…why don’t the two of us go our separate ways and part for good?”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

To think such a thick-skinned person existed in this world. It was a pity Chu Xiwei couldn’t see Ye Fusheng’s smirking face right now, or he would have had every reason to strike him right across the jaw.

Chu Xiwei’s hand curled into a fist inside his sleeve, yet a smile spread across his face. Strikingly handsome as he was, a simple raise of his brow and a curve of his lips conveyed a captivating charm.

Ye Fusheng was inexplicably reminded of the seductive, heart-snatching demons from ghost stories—male or female, none of them were ever harmless.

Reminding himself that his life had been hard-won and shouldn’t be thrown away before fulfilling his past promise, he silently recited “form is emptiness” to himself. Turning away like a proper gentleman, he intentionally stomped his feet to make heavy footsteps, allowing Chu Xiwei to follow without needing to hold his sleeve.

The chains remaining on the woman rattled with every step. Holding the unconscious Xie Li, she led them through a maze of twisting corridors that left one dizzy. Passing through the final stone chamber, they entered a long, narrow tunnel, where Chu Xiwei felt a faint breeze brush against his face despite his lack of sight.

The exit had to be at the end of the tunnel. Yet instead of relaxing, he grew even more vigilant—the world was never short of fools who let their guard down at the last moment.

Being blind, he couldn’t see Ye Fusheng’s rare look of astonishment.

The tunnel had been carved directly through a single, massive boulder. There was wind at the end, but no door.

Blocking the exit was a massive Dragon-Blocking Stone weighing over a thousand catties, flanked by manually poured stone slabs along the rock walls. Not even a fly could squeeze out, let alone a human.

It should have been a dead end.

Yet upon that Dragon-Blocking Stone, someone had managed to hack out a narrow fissure using weapons—just wide enough for an adult to squeeze through by hunching their shoulders. Dense, weathered scars crisscrossed the stone surface like ancient cobwebs.

Several broken, heavy swords and blades lay scattered on the ground. Ye Fusheng finally understood why the weapon racks in the earlier chamber were completely bare—every piece of iron had been shattered right here.

Squatting down, he picked up a snapped iron sword and inspected it closely. Aside from the clean break, there were no other signs of damage, proving the sheer, terrifying martial prowess of the person who wielded it.

Faded bloodstains still marked the hilt, so old they had turned dark, faintly resembling a handprint.

Dripping water hollows out stone, but not in a single day.

Ye Fusheng took a deep breath just as the woman spoke softly, “This was supposed to be a dead end.”

Setting down the broken sword, Ye Fusheng ran his fingers over the gap in the Dragon-Severing Stone. “Yet someone made it out alive.”

“If someone leaves alive, someone else must die.”

“Had he stayed, could both have survived?”

The woman paused, then let out a low laugh. “Fate and destiny cannot be avoided.”

Their cryptic exchange left Chu Xiwei completely in the dark, his mind filled with unanswered questions.

The woman lingered over Xie Li’s face one last time before handing him over to Ye Fusheng, her voice raspy: “This is as far as I can take you. Leave, and do not return.”

Chu Xiwei raised a brow as Ye Fusheng spoke up, “After all these years, Madam doesn’t wish to see old acquaintances again?”

“I’ve grown accustomed to being a dead person who never sees the sun.” Her fingers gently touched Xie Li’s eyelids, her fingertips tracing outward as if trying to picture his grown-up face to recall a memory of someone else.

After a long silence, the woman brushed back her messy hair, her subtle smile briefly echoing her past elegance.

“I fear seeing familiar things will bring back memories of the past, and I fear even more that the world has changed beyond recognition.”

Seeing familiar things… the world changing… Either way, it proved she was an old acquaintance of Duanshui Manor.

As Chu Xiwei pondered this, Ye Fusheng fell silent for a moment before asking, “Does Madam have any final requests? Whatever you entrust, I will do my utmost to fulfill.”

“I am a dead person; do I really need you to burn incense at my grave?” The woman chuckled softly, then paused, glancing at Xie Li in Ye Fusheng’s arms. “Or perhaps… make sure A-Li eats more meat.”

Ye Fusheng froze for a second, then burst into laughter: “Alright!”

As his voice fell, Chu Xiwei heard the soft rustle of dragging iron chains. Soon, only the breathing of the three of them remained in the space.

Ye Fusheng pressed a finger onto Xie Li’s chest, causing the boy to gasp violently and cough up air, his small face flushing red.

Before the child could ask or complain, Ye Fusheng launched a preemptive strike: “Young Manor Lord, your courage is even smaller than your height! A tiny commotion like that was enough to scare you unconscious?”

Xie Li gasped, “Cough… I saw a wom—”

Ye Fusheng shouted over him, “Wom-what? A woman? A little brat who hasn’t even grown full feathers is already thinking about women? Truly gifted, aren’t you!”

Xie Li protested, “No, I—”

Ye Fusheng interrupted again, “Now we have to get out of this place. See that gap over there? It’s so narrow that I’d have to turn you into a sewing needle to carry you through, so move your feet and walk yourself, got it?”

Xie Li: “…Got it.”

Such shameless, overbearing chatter left Chu Xiwei thoroughly astonished, feeling as though his horizons had been expanded.

With their group composed mostly of the weak, young, and injured, Ye Fusheng looked at the four-foot-tall brat and then at the temporarily blind man, feeling that every step forward would be a struggle. Left with no choice, he instructed them to wait while he squeezed through the fissure to scout ahead.

Passing through the foot-wide gap in the stone, Ye Fusheng spotted a winding stone staircase leading upward, covered in a thick layer of dust from long disuse. He searched carefully for a moment and found no hidden mechanisms, confirming it was safe.

The forbidden grounds beneath Wanghaichao were where generations of Duanshui Manor lords retreated for martial cultivation, so it was naturally not a trap designed only to kill. Thinking of this, Ye Fusheng recalled the massive stone barrier behind them and the split design of the chambers, the smirk on his lips widening.

Just then, slow, dragging footsteps echoed from high up the stairs, approaching steadily.

Ye Fusheng’s gaze sharpened, his right hand instinctively reaching for his waist, only to find nothing there. He paused, his slight helpless smile turning into a self-deprecating grin.

The footsteps drew closer, accompanied by the faint glow of a candle. Someone descended the steps carrying a white paper lantern—clad in a blue-green robe with a pale, sallow face, looking remarkably like a ghost.

Ye Fusheng cupped his fists in a greeting: “Manor Lord Xie.”